


Incense

by PixelByPixel



Series: Tumblring Tumbleweeds [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen, and gets the answer you would guess, but you believe what you want about the ending, implied impending major character death, lucifer yells at his dad, zero fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel
Summary: But they’d said he had to leave, and so he had, eventually, after the arguments and the threats and Daniel pleading with him, Come on, man. She wouldn’t want this.She wouldn’t. He knew that. So he left, refusing all suggestions of companionship or of succor. He went where his feet led him, which, as it turned out, was here.





	Incense

The smell of incense lingered.

Lucifer Morningstar, playboy club owner, LAPD consultant, the Devil Himself, noted that detail as he stood before the altar. He would have thought that the smell would dissipate.

“Well?” he demanded, turning in a half-circle and taking it all in: the stained glass, the flickering candles, the empty pews. “Is this what you wanted?”

Silence, after the echoes faded. Of course. Why would he expect anything else? But they’d kicked him out of her hospital room, and he couldn’t bear to linger in the hallway like a scorned child.

“She needs to rest,” they’d said. “We’ll know more in the morning. Come back then. Get some sleep.”

But he had known. He had known, from the looks they’d exchanged when they thought he wasn’t looking, from the gray tone her face had taken in that last hour before they’d exiled him.

And it felt like an exile. He didn’t want to be anywhere but by her side, willing her to keep trying, to  _fight_. But they’d said he had to leave, and so he had, eventually, after the arguments and the threats and Daniel pleading with him,  _Come on, man. She wouldn’t want this._

She wouldn’t. He knew that. So he left, refusing all suggestions of companionship or of succor. He went where his feet led him, which, as it turned out, was here.

“Hello,” he tried again, drawing out the vowel. “Dad, are you listening? You need to do something about this. Didn’t we have a deal?”

He’d dealt with his mother, after all, and even though it didn’t involve sending her back to Hell, she was still somewhere she wouldn’t harm anyone, and that should count for something.

Shouldn’t it?

A noise came from behind him and he turned sharply, all predator, to confront the startled priest. “Can I help you?” he drawled, all poison and broken edges.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” the man replied, seemingly unfazed. “Is everything all right?”

Well. A target. Just what he needed.

“You tell me,” the Devil replied. “What would you say to a father who reneges on a deal with his child? Who promises to keep someone safe and lets her -”

Lucifer's voice broke. He couldn’t say it. She wasn’t dead; she _wasn’t_.

They would have called him. Wouldn’t they?

The priest moved closer, cautious. Good. “Well, I’d say a father shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep.”

“Yes!” The word burst from Lucifer’s mouth, a cry of protest. Not that he agreed with a priest, of course, but the man had a point.

“But sometimes there are circumstances beyond our control,” the priest added, placating.

“No. Nothing is beyond his control.”

With a quick, easy smile, the priest replied, “That can only be said of one father.”

Feeling a little wilder than usual, Lucifer let his eyes flare red. “As you say,” he agreed. Unable to resist, he flickered into his Devil form, his smile a little too wide, too white against the red of his face.

“You’re…” Staggering back a step, the man couldn’t finish.

Keeping that uncanny smile even as he shifted back to his human form, Lucifer nodded and stepped toward the priest, reveling in the man’s fear. “The Devil,” he agreed. Letting his titles roll off his tongue, he added, “the Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, Old Scratch, Satan.” With a precise, flamboyant gesture, he concluded, “Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Get thee behind me,” the man stammered, and suddenly Lucifer was _there_ , his breath warm on the man’s neck.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Lucifer replied, his tone flat as he smelled the sudden wash of fear from the priest, with a little something extra that confirmed his suspicion.

“Kyrie eleison,” the priest breathed, frozen in place. “Christe eleison.”

“Oh, he won’t help you,” Lucifer scoffed. “He gave you thirty-odd years and now he’s resting on his laurels in the Silver City, no concern for you lot. No, don’t bother praying to him. Even if he heard, he won’t do anything.”

He could hear the priest’s sharp, pained intake of breath. “You’re lying.”

In one swift move, Lucifer hoisted the man into the air and flung him across the room. “I never lie,” he roared.

The priest sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry,” he babbled. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Why do you always say that?” Lucifer demanded, though he clearly didn’t expect an answer.

Above, the bells began to toll, a steady, inevitable sound. Looking up, Lucifer tried not to see it as a sign.

There were no signs, after all. Not for him.

Turning back to the priest, he found the spot the man had occupied to be empty.

“Blast,” he muttered.

The bells stopped their tolling after twelve.

Lucifer’s phone rang, shattering the silence.


End file.
